


Loving Hands

by Lady_Clara



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, Fantasizing, Fluff, Love, M/M, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Canon, Self-Touching, Sweet, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25769851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Clara/pseuds/Lady_Clara
Summary: When royal duties in Faerghus prevent Dimitri from accompanying Dedue on a mission abroad, his husband proposes an idea to help the two of them feel connected despite the physical distance.A few nights later, with Dedue’s scarf draped around his shoulders and a ginger-scented candle lit on his nightstand, Dimitri is eager to turn that idea into a reality.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 15
Kudos: 39





	Loving Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is essentially 2000+ words of Dimitri thinking about how deeply in love he is with his husband Dedue. Enjoy!

Dimitri shuts the door to the royal bedchamber and tries unsuccessfully to slow his pounding heart now that he’s alone. He has been counting down the days leading up to this very night, and after a full schedule of meetings all morning and afternoon and evening, he can finally take off his heavy regalia, draw the curtains closed, and put in motion the plan only one other person is privy to.

Dedue left five days ago to deliver more resources for Duscur's ongoing revitalization efforts. Ordinarily, Dimitri would accompany his husband to help out on these missions, but trade negotiations with visiting representatives from Adrestia and Leicester territories kept him in Faerghus this time around. The king and his right-hand man have rarely been apart since their impossible reunion during the war, so being without the one he cherishes so deeply for long swaths of time leaves Dimitri’s chest aching. Dedue has admitted it is the same for him.

With that in mind, Dedue arranged a plan with Dimitri in private before his travels in hopes enacting it would help them feel more connected even when separated.

“When the bells signaling nightfall have rung on the fifth day after my departure, think of me and I shall think of you. Allow your hands to caress your body pretending they are my own. I will do the same." 

Dimitri’s skin had prickled in delight at the novel idea. “That should not be difficult,” he had assured Dedue. “After all, my hands _are_ your hands. My heart _is_ your heart.”

Dedue had blushed at that. The sight is one Dimitri will never tire of, a lovely shade the same color as the roses Dedue grows in the greenhouse, and conjuring the image of it back into his mind sends warmth and affection running through his body.

Tonight is the fifth night since Dedue left, and Dimitri will oblige his husband’s request happily and with enthusiasm.

First, he disrobes until only two accessories remain: his wedding ring and a gold locket he wears around his neck almost every day. When he and Dedue stood for their official royal portrait, he commissioned the artist to make a miniature version of it that he keeps in the locket so he and Dedue may always be together even when they are physically apart.

Next, he rummages through his wardrobe and slips on the dark blue nightshirt Dedue sewed him as a gift for one of their wedding anniversaries, leaving the front open so the locket stays visible. The construction of the garment is impeccable and the fabric feels extraordinarily soft – unsurprising given how talented Dedue is with his hands. _Very_ talented, as Dimitri knows intimately. His skin glows with the memory of those hands on him.

His thoughts are interrupted when the sound of Fhirdiad’s bell tower seeps through the stone walls and announces the day’s ending, sending a shiver of excitement down Dimitri’s spine. The time is upon him. His heart pounds with as much vigor as the ringing bells do.

He hurries over to the nightstand and lights the candle that smells like Dedue’s favorite ginger tea. While he waits for the scent to diffuse through the room, he unfolds one of Dedue’s scarves, the handsome teal one Dedue told him to hold tight whenever he missed him. He wraps it around his shoulders and hugs it as if it’s his husband’s thick arms holding him close.

With the nightshirt and scarf on, he climbs onto the bed before the final toll of the bell and takes a deep breath in, letting the candle’s fragrance of ginger wash over him. Its association with Dedue is so strong that it sends a heady wave of desire rolling through him. He closes his eye and lifts his chin up in a reflexive motion like he does when he wishes to kiss the man who bears that irresistible scent until he realizes the bearer is not currently in bed with him. Before he can grow too melancholy about the physical distance between them, he remembers that no emotional distance separates them at all. Their hearts are always connected. 

He sinks down with his back against the mattress and his knees up and balls his fists into the bedsheets, excited but a little nervous. The guilt that comes with taking time for himself and indulging in acts like this is something Dimitri still wrestles with, especially when he could be dedicating the time instead to bettering the Kingdom. He reminds himself he has done as much as he could today for his people, and the peace of the post-war era has thankfully gone uninterrupted, so he supposes he can allow himself a few moments of personal pleasure.

Besides, a few territories away, the man he loves with every beat of his heart is doing the very same.

He curls his arm under the pillow Dedue sleeps on and pulls it close to his side. It still carries his comforting scent, most likely due to the fact that Dimitri had sheepishly told the castle attendants it would not be necessary to launder any of the bed linens for a few days.

“Are you thinking of me right now, Dedue?” Dimitri asks aloud, hoping his words will travel across the mountains and reach his husband’s ears. “I am thinking of you. Though in truth, I am thinking of you every hour of every day. I think about how wonderful you are, and how lucky I am to be by your side, and how much I wish to tell you all of that in person upon your return.” He hugs the pillow a little closer to his side and bites his lip in anticipation. “I will honor your request, and even though we are miles apart, know that you are always in my heart and I am forever in yours.”

He takes hold of the locket and presses a delicate kiss to it, then begins to let his hands wander slowly. He does his best to recreate the paths Dedue carves out along his body, going from his neck to his collarbones to his chest to his abdomen until his hands rest on his inner thighs. Dedue knows that’s a sensitive area. Dimitri imitates what his husband does with that knowledge by dragging his thumbs in slow circles over the skin.

He tilts his head back in a soft moan. The rustling sound the nightshirt lovingly crafted by his husband’s hand makes from the movement spikes his desire even more.

“Dedue…”

He takes his arousal in his hand, body jolting at the touch, and revels in the way his wedding ring feels against his skin. It’s a reminder of his undying love, a reminder that a man currently in another region wears one that matches his because their love is mutual and lasting and true.

“Dedue…I am glad…”

He begins to move his hand while he clutches Dedue’s pillow in his other arm.

“I am glad to love you. I am glad to be loved by you.”

He digs his fingers into the pillow as he quickens the movement of his other hand. Even though he is alone, he makes a conscious effort to arch his back and bare his neck. Dedue likes it when he does that. He likes to press kisses to his exposed neck knowing the skin there is so often covered by clothing and therefore sensitive to touch. The thought of those kisses is exhilarating, almost as if he can feel Dedue’s lips trailing down his throat.

It goes both ways. Dimitri knows the map of Dedue’s body as well as he knows the map of Fódlan, and he’ll give Dedue all the pleasure he wishes to seek upon his return. He’ll kiss between his shoulder blades, massage his scalp, trace fingertips down his broad chest just the way Dedue likes it. Most of all, he’ll tell Dedue how cherished he is in between every touch. Seeing his beloved happy and satisfied is a marvelous sight to behold.

He pictures what Dedue must look like right now, lying in bed another nation over, brow beading with sweat thinking about their love just like Dimitri is. It’s a beautiful image. His cheeks are probably flushed as they often are during lovemaking, or any time Dimitri divulges how awestruck he is by everything Dedue is and does. Despite being married for a handful of years and knowing each other for many handfuls more, Dedue still blushes at Dimitri’s declarations of love. It’s one of his many endearing qualities.

Dedue is not the only one who blushes, however. Dimitri is sure he is turning the usual shade of red from his forehead down to his chest the more he thinks about the man he loves so much.

There is one thing in particular that can make him blush more intensely than anything else…

He pretends to hear Dedue whisper his name into his ear. His real name. Not a title. Just _Dimitri_ said softly and reverently.

“ _Mhm_ , my cherished,” Dimitri responds with a moan, albeit breathy and barely coherent. His hand speeds up of its own accord. He is getting close to his peak and wonders if Dedue is, too.

Still, as much as he tries to imagine that his moving hand belongs to Dedue, he cannot fool himself. Dedue’s touch is unlike anything he could ever replicate. The control Dedue has of his hands is like nothing else. They are the toned and powerful hands of someone who spent years handling an axe, but whenever they meet Dimitri’s body, they are as gentle as his touch is tender. In bed, those hands roam up and down, calluses leaving a pleasant friction in their wake, until every inch of Dimitri is warmed through. Sometimes, he fits his fingers in between Dimitri’s and pins his hands down to the sheets at either side of his pillow. Dimitri delights in the feeling of Dedue’s fingers tightening around his and Dedue’s palms pressing into his own when they make love that way.

So be it. If he cannot successfully pretend in this moment that the touch belongs to Dedue, he’ll do the next best thing. He’ll pretend Dedue is wrapping his hand gently around Dimitri’s own, fingers closing around his own, as he then guides his movement and sets the pace.

That makes all the difference. Dimitri’s heart rate speeds up and his knees part wider. Heat pools everywhere inside of him. If he closes his eye, he can almost picture Dedue’s smiling, blushing face above him. Can almost feel the dip in the mattress that his wonderfully large frame would make.

Dimitri may have a resilient body, one that withstood the horrors of warfare and living homeless for half a decade, yet he melts completely under Dedue’s touch and gaze. He gladly gives himself over every time, shifting and twisting as the hands and eyes of his loved one glide over him. It is not so much the physical sensation that does him in, but the connection they share and the mutual trust they place in each other. It is the love and life and faith Dedue’s hands convey that turn Dimitri into a moaning, gasping, pliant pile of emotion and sentimentality. _He is alive_ , Dimitri often finds himself thinking. _He is alive, and he returns my love and trust_.

Dimitri’s own grip cannot accomplish what Dedue’s touch can, but just thinking of having his husband’s love is enough to get his toes curling and back arching. It makes him feel so human – a feeling at one point in his life he was not sure he would ever experience again.

“I love you, Dedue,” he says out loud because he cannot hold it in. Does not _want_ to hold it in. “I love you. Forever. In life and in death.”

_I love you, Dimitri_ , Dedue would avow, and imagining his voice smooth as velvet saying those words sends Dimitri over the edge as his pleasure crests and releases. He turns his head and moans into Dedue’s pillow beside him, the scent of ginger from the neighboring candle suddenly overpowering in the best of ways. He rides it out, hoping Dedue knows the mere thought of him is powerful enough to do this, hoping Dedue was able to achieve the same pleasure tonight as well. Perhaps they even finished concurrently. Such a thing is not an uncommon occurrence for them given how in tune they have become with each other throughout the years.

When he is spent, he lets his hand fall onto the mattress as his legs and the arm around Dedue’s pillow go slack. The act has left him panting from exertion, nightshirt soaked with sweat and strands of blond hair plastered to his cheek. He does not mind it. They are byproducts of the love he has for someone dear to him.

His thoughts stay on Dedue as he takes the time to catch his breath. On the small smile that curls his lips and softens his eyes when Dimitri catches him staring at his wedding ring. On his impressive expertise in so many areas from cooking to botany to diplomacy to leadership. On the love he so willingly bestows upon Dimitri ever day. Dimitri does not know how he got to be so lucky to have Dedue in his life to cherish, but he is certainly thankful for it.

Once he has regained a bit of energy, he cleans up and blows out the candle, letting the lingering scent of ginger cling to his skin as if Dedue was there. He presses a final kiss to the locket before taking it off along with his damp nightshirt and crawling back into bed.

Feeling sated despite the absence of the one who shares his bed, he curls himself around Dedue’s pillow and holds Dedue’s scarf close to his chest. He wishes Dedue could see how love-struck he undoubtedly looks right now – and he wishes he could see Dedue’s expression in turn – but he supposes the opportunity will arise once they are reunited.

“Thank you for arranging this, my cherished,” Dimitri whispers. “I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. May it bring you a peaceful slumber.”

The last thing he imagines is taking Dedue’s hand in his, running his thumb over his knuckles, and kissing the back of it before falling asleep with their fingers laced together.

He eagerly awaits Dedue’s return, but for now, thoughts of him will suffice.

**Author's Note:**

> Dimitri: the most love-struck man in all of Fódlan. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
